STOIC

hello! i’m amy (28; she/her), 18+ yrs experience in rp. foradnama is a selective, independent multimuse blog containing triggering topics, nsfw content, and canons/original characters. low activity. please specify which muse starters/memes are for. (main blog / @galaeus​ )

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Iggy’s words sound otherworldly, like she’s found her head underwater and can’t remember how to swim to the surface. Bad -- according to social media, the fight had crossed over from professional to a dance with suicide. She doesn’t remember wailing on her opponent. Hell, Maeve doesn’t even remember getting to the makeshift medical room in the back rooms.

His voice, however, drags her back to Earth.

What have you done to yourself? So much. Too much that he wouldn’t be proud of, too little in which her own father would approve. Defending a name only helps when you don’t die before it becomes a legacy.

“I don’t know,” Maeve finally speaks, though her throat is hoarse. Through a bloodshot gaze she looks up, surveying the face she once knew better than she knew herself. If he’s disappointed, then she can stomach that. If he pities her? Then she doesn’t want to see it.

“Guess I finally became my father’s daughter.”

Inside Thoughts

The thing about going home is that it often meant being alone with one’s thoughts.

So instead, Martin found ways as often as he could to just be away from home. Some nights that meant sitting in the corner of a bar. Some nights that meant going to the store and buying something he absolutely did not need.

Tonight, of all nights, that meant taking a walk through the busy city streets and emotionally drafting off of the energy of the people around him. It wasn’t exactly the best method for staying out of his own head, but if there was anything that Martin knew how to do, it was staring at any odd thing that might interest him, and the people of the city were certainly interesting if nothing else.

Sitting down at the first bench he happened upon, Martin tried his best not to bother the woman who had already been sitting there, but not long into his people watching he couldn’t help but let slip a thought about a performer across the street.

“Don’t think I’ve seen a real life clown in years. I thought we all collectively decided they were creepy and moved on.”

@foradnama

Sometimes being out here was a good thing: she spent so much time and energy living and breathing her own gym that she forgot how crisp the night air could be. Fresh air, the kind that doesn’t come dirtied with boxing gloves and hand wraps, sweat and tears. Maeve West doesn’t intend to talk to anyone because very rarely do people talk to her; something about a resting bitch face or another.

Yet this person does. When he sits down beside her, the gym owner thinks nothing of it. Public property means anyone can sit anywhere, but she’s sat with her fist pressed to her temple as she leans against the bench armrest, watching. What she’s watching, Maeve cannot articulate.

So the stranger graciously does it for her.

Giving a half-smirk at the rogue commentary, Maeve turns her chin just so to look at him. “We did all collectively decide they were creepy. Some people just don’t listen.”

This could have waited until morning, but there’s something so satisfying about coming home from a late-night shift only to annoying the fuck out of your childhood best friend. Funny how the  memories seem to blur now that they finally share a place to call home, yet Maeve has been on edge since the first time she’d seen his face in what felt like eons.

With a closed fist, she doesn’t knock. She bangs once, twice, three times, until the door opens.

“Hey.” Dry. Flat. “Thought I saw the Big Dipper on my way home and figured hey, why Google it when I got a dear neighbor who paid the big bucks to know about it?”

“Yes, Maeve, your match.” There’s no point trying to deny, biting at the inside of her cheek to stop herself from welling up with tears. The real challenge would come as she is watching Maeve throw her body around without care or concern for her own wellbeing. The vitriol spewing from Maeve is swallowed with a tremble of her mouth, Jolene attempting to sharpen her own tongue when it’s hard to be anything but made of soft edges when she is around Maeve. “Of course you can do this, but why does life have to be a constant uphill battle for you? What do you feel like you have to prove anymore? You own TRANSCEND. Why do you still have to participate?” 

@foradnama​ asked: 💬

“All the outfits were terrible.”